


Time's Master

by Perplexed_Pufferfish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark Bran, F/M, Time Travel, avoiding dialogue like i'm d&d, braime is the show's biggest victim, bran destroying braime, bran has all the time magic, bran pov, not a fix it but an explanation of the horrors we witnessed, period inappropriate shenanigans, star trek space/time anomalies, stupid but so was s8, we're in the darkest timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perplexed_Pufferfish/pseuds/Perplexed_Pufferfish
Summary: As Bran develops his 3ER powers to manipulate his way to the throne, he uses Jaime as practice. Westeros turns into a bit of a mess in the process.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> INSPIRATION: https://screenrant.com/game-thrones-jaime-cersei-not-brienne-reason/amp/ 
> 
> With the infamous “drunk and devirginized” and Jaime feeling like a “traitor,” the script begs two questions: (1) If Jaime felt guilty and immediately remorseful, why'd he stick around for a month and continue the affair, destroying Brienne's reputation and honor (as an unmarried highborn woman, and as someone who vouched for him, a traitor in the eyes of the kings/queens/whatevers)?, and (2) Brienne wasn't drunk when Jaime came to her room, so how is she drunk after falling asleep? I'm going to answer those questions and many more!
> 
> This is just some dumb attempt at crack!fic for an in universe explanation on why Jaime and Brienne's stories are the ones destroyed earliest and the most thoroughly in the show adaptation compared to other POV characters. D&D never define what are Bran's powers, so the world is my oyster. 
> 
> The rating is because no child should be subjected to the horrors of Season 8.

Time was a funny thing, Bran thought. His father was long dead, but he still stood before them and turned when Bran called to him. _He can hear me._ Before Bran could pursue it further, the old man had pulled them back through time to the cave. The old man always gave speeches about their duties as the keepers of history, sprinkling in denials of their ability to change history; this hasty retreat made Bran just a little suspicious.

It seemed like they had sat there for over a year in that cold cave before the old man had shown him anything of interest. Bran told him of visions of dragons over King's Landing and of the Night King overtaking Westeros. The old man told him that they could only see what could be, not what would be, and that they needn't worry; the old man would only take his own pace at teaching Bran the extent of his powers.

At least warging was something that Bran didn't need to learn from the old man, and his explorations were limited only by where ravens could fly. Bran had visited the known world, and what a mess it was. The world was in chaos with new wars brewing. His family's enemies had still not been punished, and his family was weaker than ever. He only had time on his hands, and he could only watch. He saw his younger brother Rickon on Skagos learning to be a warrior and riding unicorns, and Bran was a passive cripple trapped in a cold cave, powerless to affect the world.

As the months dragged on, he had convinced himself that only he could lead Westeros away from destruction. He could see the folly of all the past in perfect clarity and learn and adapt from it. It was pure, innocent logic; the people would thank him in the end. But how to become such a hero? Time was all he had; could he get it to work for him? Ned Stark…. _had_ reacted. There was something to do that.

As Bran's impatience with the old man grew, he became more reckless pushing the boundaries of his new powers. He didn't mean to alert the Night King to their location, and he didn't mean to do that to Hodor. Bran was sorry about what happened there, but he had confirmation that the old man had lied: he could affect the past.

And just like that, it was over. _Time_ , Bran giggled to himself he was delivered away from the cave.

The old man was dead, and he couldn't stop Bran now. Uncle Benjin delivered Meera and him to a weirwood tree, like he subconsciously wanted to help Bran's plan, and he just disappeared again like the gods didn't know what else to do with him. The tree was the perfect the perfect first step, though. Bran told Meera only that he wanted to finish visiting the things that the old man had shown him; he had to get his plan started without her growing suspicious. Meera nodded and busied herself setting up a makeshift camp. “We have some distance from them, but we should still leave at first light,” she warned as she left him to his tree.

So he began.

Bran quickly learned that he was too ambitious with his first attempts in the past. He would be stronger with his father on his side, but things did not go as planned. Beheadings, poisonings, surprise throat stabbings, starvation in a dark cell, Ned Stark always died. After a dozen deaths, Bran just felt a numb resignation. The universe just wanted his father dead: it was a fixed point in time. Bran had learned of the deaths of his mother and Robb, and he couldn't go through the same thing with them. He'd just have to use the family he had, and he'd have to be happy with that. At least Robb's wife was safely away, and he'd have bonus family members to work with. They would support his ascension to the throne.

He went to Edmure's wedding. He couldn't start his plan with the Freys. He needed a test subject, someone whom he could scramble the brain of like Hodor without caring. Maybe he should have always started with them before getting the experience of seeing Ned Stark run over by a cart.

Theon Greyjoy. Bran was delighted at his state. He was horribly maimed and beaten down, a prisoner of a sadistic monster. Bran owed this Ramsay fellow a great favor: Bran couldn't have created a more beautiful masterpiece of comeuppance against him. Thus Bran had to check the other one, Jaime Lannister. His state was just as glorious as Theon's: sword hand lost and self worth gone. Finally some good news from his travels.

But, wait… that woman with him. Someone was looking at that vile creature with tenderness and respect. He followed the pair for a short time, and he saw a little flirting. What?

Bran snapped back to the present.

Meera had somehow found a rabbit and was cooking it over a small fire. She gave him a quick glance as she heard him coming out of his dream, unsurprised and unconcerned. He had been traveling through time for weeks, but very little time had passed at the tree. Interesting.

“We're not far from the wall,” he said absently, trying to ground himself back in the physical world.

“We'll be there this time tomorrow,” she confirmed. “It would be faster, but your uncle –“ she paused, exasperated. “He could have lent us his horse.”

It was all the same to Bran. “That smells delicious,” he changed the subject. That seemed like an appropriate thing to say. She smiled, and she may have slightly blushed. It was probably the cold. Bran seethed. Jaime Lannister was crippled but was still facing an exciting new romance, and Bran had nothing!

Meera gave him dinner, and she animatedly shared stories of her family. Bran nodded and said the obligatory reactions. _That sounds_ _nice. Oh no, how did he react? You must miss your father. How dare Jaime Lannister be happy._ He may not have said the last thing aloud.

Meera needed sleep, and she trusted him to wake her in time to protect them if the need should arise. If only father had taught his children how to use a knife in case immediate danger found them. However, becoming king was his divine purpose, and ice zombies in the night wouldn't stop him. He went back to his tree.

 _Start small_ , he told himself. He followed the Kingslayer and that confused woman's journey back to King's Landing. She was appropriately distraught at Bran's mother's passing, so he supposed she may have some worth to her despite her obscene taste in men. The Kingslayer annoyingly tried to cheer her on the road; it wasn't the suitable response. He needed to know Bran's pain.

Bran could see the time flow on their journey to King's Landing, and it was so natural. The old man had pulled Bran through time, and Bran could do the same with others. He reached out with his mind and subtly pulled them along through time with him, adjusting the rate of passage of time in a small bubble around them. It wasn't enough that they would notice, but they arrived in King's Landing just in time so that the Kingslayer would witness the death of his incest abomination. Bran delighted in his pain at watching his son's life leave his eyes. So beautiful.

And it had been so easy. That old man sure kept a lot of things from him.

He supposed that the confused woman, Brienne her name was, would be scared off by such a man, his incest baby and relationship with his sister now impossible to deny. He skimmed through their timeline watching them separate, doing things that didn't interest Bran, but then reuniting because of _that thing_ in the Riverlands, a nightmarish shade that Bran couldn't speak the name of. The nauseating confessions of respect and honor and (gag) love that followed did nothing to alleviate Bran's horror, though it made him more determined. He would practice his skills by bringing a suitable punishment to Jaime Lannister, and then he would be ready for the throne.

He came back to his body and waited for the light. He had his grand plan, but the details of obtaining it were harder, he had learned. He would develop a plan of action as Meera got them south.


	2. The beginning of the end of the real Jaime Lannister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran has to start somewhere, so why not begin to completely mess up Jaime's life?

“The former Lord Commander sure was broken hearted when he thought you were dead,” one of their travel companions said to Bran. It was a common method they used to try to trick him into conversation. They were a third – maybe half? – of the way between the wall and Winterfell. Meera and he had easily secured a ride south on one of the transports (anything for Jon Snow's little brother); it was convenient, but they couldn't take a hint.

“He was mistaken,” Bran flatly replied and stared out into space.

“It didn't make the pain any less,” the man replied. “Why, one night -”

“How much longer to Winterfell?” Bran broke in without changing his tone. He thought of the godswood.

“I suppose you're missing your family,” the man excused his behavior all too easily. “They won't know you're coming, and this will be a blessed surprise to them.” He grinned. “It will be a week or two, depending on the weather. You'll be with them soon enough.” Bran would have to do something about travel times. This was interminable, all this socializing and nowhere to run away to.

Their companions continued to try to engage him. Meera deflected it from him as best she could, but Bran didn't care. He was going to be king, and he didn't need to put in effort acknowledging the smallfolk or sparing their feelings. The plan, the plan…

Daenerys was a problem, a problem with a Dornish wildcard. Stannis he could handle. His body hinted to his mind about movement around him: Meera was fussing around him again. Her father knew about Jon. That was another problem. He'd have to find suitable punishments for Theon and the Kingslayer, too. So much to do, but so it should be. Kings had to deal with problems all the time. This was his trial.

Bran stayed in his thoughts, coming around when they stopped by an abandoned keep, and he assumed they were staying the night there. “There's a small godswood nearby, they say,” Meera whispered to him, remembering Bran's interest. She smiled prettily, and darted her eyes to their companions as Bran fixed his look on her. _One of them must have caught her fancy_ , he thought as she took quick, shy glances back at him. Everyone had found love except for him… even the Kingslayer. Bran seethed. He had to fix that.

“Take me to it,” Bran commanded. And so she did.

Dorne. That was the key. It was Daenerys' foothold into Westeros… and Jaime's daughter was there, giving all kinds of revenge scenarios. He could multitask in Dorne with enough finesse; it would be great practice before his rise to power hit its climax. This would to take some delicate planning, but it was also time to be bold. Dorne would be the beginning of his narrative masterpiece as he shaped Westeros to his vision. The smallfolk would love to pass on the stories. Giving good stories is what kings do. He'd be a fount of inspiration to the people.

The strangled, croaking abomination of the Riverlands could wait since he needed to borrow the Kingslayer. Bran needed courage before confronting that monster anyway, and a few victories would give it to him.

First problem: no one actually liked him. He'd have to take care of that! Bran skimmed the rest of his rivals. Daenerys Targaryen was entrenched in Essos, not much forward motion to Westeros. _A win is a win_ , Bran thought. A Greyjoy and Martell followed parallel trajectories to Meereen, suddenly making Bran uncomfortable with how many powerful people were approaching the Dragon Queen at the same time, so things were probably not so good after all. It was as if the gods were unraveling a knot to arrange those conveniences against him. _A good king needs a good trial,_ he repeated his motivational phrase. Tyrion Lannister was meandering toward her, muttering “Where do whores go?” ( _To brothels?_ Bran thought.) Still good, not a threat. And Tyrion, those people with him…

Bran groaned. Just what he needed: a secret Targaryen. A possible true heir to the Iron Throne. There was time to figure that out later. He target was in his sights.

Bran watched Tyrion fall in the water. Stone monsters or somesuch were attacking. Lots of oxygen deprivation, a brain ripe for the picking. “You'll stall Daenerys,” Bran whispered. “Sabotage her rule. Make her weak.” His victim would be compliant. That would set things in motion in Essos, so to Dorne! The lynchpin of his glory.

Bran followed the timeline. The Kingslayer's sister-lover had been the one to send him north of King's Landing to the Riverlands. It took only a few whispers about the dangers of Dorne and reminders that Myrcella's presence was due to Tyrion's plotting to change “Go to the Riverlands and restore the king's order” to “Go to Dorne, would you?” Bran took note at the loathing the two showed one another, but that small matter could be exploited as long as Jaime stayed away from that deluded, besotted girl. On preparations, Jaime asked for Ilyn Payne. Bran thought that Bronn was funnier, so with a wave of the hand, Bronn replaced Payne. _He'll never get that castle_ , Bran laughed as he swatted Lollys out of the narrative. A small crack in time appeared, and an alternate universe laughed with Bran.

What else? Bran almost forgot about Stannis; he had been around Essos, too. He'd secured funds from the Iron Bank. Whoever controlled the money could control Westeros. Oh no. Stannis even had a funny old man getting them excited for him. Bran didn't have anyone to hype for him. Meera just didn't have the charming magnetism he needed for that.

None of that boded well.

For good news, Bran then checked to see the fruits of his labour in Dorne. Another obstacle: Arianne Martell. She was going to get the Iron Throne for Myrcella. Now that Jaime was there, he could be an ally. Why didn't anyone do what they were supposed to do?

“…. so many choices for the throne who aren't weird cripples with no army or claim ...” It wasn't their words, but Bran got the summary of it.

“…. I must protect Tommen and Myrcella. Only Cersei has aspirations for the throne, and she's most likely dead ...”

“… be back soon after checking the veracity of this Aegon Targaryen ...”

“… swore to protect Rhaegar's children ...”

They were.. uniting without him? This wasn't going how he wanted to at all! Too many players, too many variables. His narrative couldn't handle so many players. _Deep breath_. He didn't have the skill, and it wasn't necessary for his heroic story to have so many players for the throne. The smallfolk would still find his epic rise to power a good story even with half the players. So it would be. Arianne had to be the first to go. Too many players, and she was such a latecomer, a direct threat to his Westeros.

“...I have a convenient Stormlands noblewoman I can marry to bring alliance stability with the Westerlands...”

“...we'll have to arrange many political marriages to secure lasting peace...”

“...the king should have a functioning cock...” Bran's inner worries took on Bronn's voice. He had enough of this! No marriages for anyone!

Arianne was going to go away, so no one would know that conversation had happened. Bran tried to pull her out of existence, but it seemed out of his powers. Her consciousness was a fixed point. So be it… with a little practice, her body faded, and her mind went to occupy those of Oberyn Martell's paramour and daughters. It messed them up a little, but Bran could live with that. They'd thank him later.

In the aftermath, Jaime and Bronn had a silly fight with the daughters, some prison time, some making fun of his left handed writing… it was all humiliating and glorious, no plans or intelligence left to threaten Bran. Brilliant! Things were coming together. That Ellaria and her conspirators decided to kill Mycella and Oberyn's family (as revenge against the Lannisters?) was just an unexpected but welcome surprise. Bran reveled in the Kingslayer's sorrow; two children dying in front of him thanks to Bran. Should he go for three? Maybe he'd give up all thoughts of happiness with that girl if all of his children turned up cursed. Maybe Bran could again accidentally take out another rival house to ease his path to the throne. Who was near Tommen? Maybe the Kingslayer was already discouraged...

“How do you want to go?” Bronn asked. It was before they met Arianne. Time was sorting itself, but why was Bran pulled here?

“In the arms of the woman I love,” Jaime answered. “us both old and grey, surrounded by a dozen or so grandchildren.” He smiled. Bran laughed. Little did he know...

“Does she want the same thing?” Awkward. Bran saw Brienne in the Riverlands, slaughtering the Blood Mummers ( _for Jaime_ ) and being labeled the Kingslayer's Whore. She still had a maiden's heart, having loving care for the sword that incestuous savage had given her. Ice, mutilated. Yes, _she_ would want the same thing. Too bad Bran wouldn't let it happen. The rasping creature in the Riverlands would try to bring them together, as she had in life, but one thing at a time to fix since his nemesis had not yet given up hope.

Bran saw glimpses of the Kingslayer's sister, throwing wine at him, calling him useless and hideous, and he laughing at her attempts at seduction and growing concerned over her erratic behavior and influence over Tommen. There's a fate good enough for the Kingslayer, Bran thought. He could be chained to the toxic relationship that had given birth to Bran's crippled body.

“Tarth, Ser Jaime.” Bran had gone back further. The Kinglsayer gazed at the lovely island in a manner that went well beyond fondness. That woman followed his thoughts everywhere. It was disgusting. Well, a few changes here and there ought to do it. Bran was certain of it.

The Kingslayer hadn't approached his sister in the sept by their firstborn's corpse this time; the early arrival thanks to Bran had removed the desperation immediately following the return to King's Landing. Bran whispered in his ear, leading Jaime to pathetically beg for a coupling. It ultimately led to a more forceful encounter in the sept, but it was of no concern to Bran.

A few whispers later, and Loras forgot about his lover's murder. He and Jaime bickered instead on Cersei's marriage rather than Brienne's innocence. In the aftermath, the Kingslayer never got around to ordering a dress for his new lady. His mind was still recovering from the nudging Bran had to do in the sept, and Brienne had to take the initiative in naming the sword he had given her. _A fixed point in time?_

The Kingslayer mournfully watched his lady depart King's Landing, but he thought nothing of her as he now agreed to resign from the King's Guard in order to save his brother ( _that didn't happen before?_ ). After that plan fell through, the Kingslayer still showed no concern at the corruption of the King's Guard, as he had done before. His sister came to him in the White Tower, and instead of refusing her as he once did, Jaime threw the White Book to the floor in order defile the chambers. It was all too perfect.

“Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know.” The words died in Tyrion's throat at Bran's light prompting. Tyrion never got to wonder where whores went, one less worry on his mind as he followed his fate into the water and towards bringing Daenerys Targaryen's demise. He hugged his brother tenderly, leaving the wretch to stay warming the bed of his sister and deluded in her false devotion to him. Bran finally nudged Varys onto the ship with Tyrion to save himself from one manipulator, and then he could admire his handiwork.

The Kingslayer no longer spoke of grandchildren or any hint at a future by the fire with Bronn, that glimpse of the island would lead to nothing over the power of the new memories he received from Bran. The woman he now had at the end of his days was not one of his own choosing. He would ferry their daughter's corpse back to King's Landing, and there he could rot until he met his demise. Bran had not yet decided if Jaime would live to see the coronation, but he would not live to see anyone who cared about him again.

Bran now had to make sure his coronation actually happened.

He main problems, the two Targayens, were now in Essos, so he should just… Oh no. Bran had forgotten he had a sister there, too. She had been out the way, not part of the power struggle. But now there she was, out in the open, and the old woman – Bran watched helplessly as Arya's life spilled out from her stomach wound. She was crumpled on the ground, and it wouldn't be long….

“I swear to you, he's not the man he was,” Brienne was pleading to the shade before her in the cave, violently pulling Bran away from his sister. No, no, Bran couldn't face this yet. Bran believed the girl's sincerity, and he was growing more certain she truly only had the Starks' best interests in her heart, but he couldn't be here. He pulled away as fast as he could… only to see what had become of Riverrun. Without the Kingslayer's intervention, there had been so much bloodshed. His family…

Bran was in crisis mode. He pulled away from the weirwood tree. He needed to sort this, and then his path to the Iron Throne would be even closer. He just needed some sleep, and he'd return in the morning before they left to continue on their journey.

He had still forgotten to look at Stannis, and he had not yet noticed the changes that his time tampering had brought.

“Fewer,” Stannis said under his breath.

Davos quietly snorted. “That will make a great meme.” His king only looked at him in confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bran still has to mess up so many more characters! Brienne will not be immune.


	3. The start of the fall of Brienne's character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran starts with his plan for Brienne.

Bran and his party would be setting off to Winterfell soon. Just a little more progress, he swore. Then he would plan more on the road. Meera dutifully returned him to the tree, keeping light conversation and made a few attempts at jokes. Her eyes were alive with laughter, and she tucked more blankets around him as she readied him at the tree. She was glowing more with life the further south they went, closer to her family and to the land of the living; mayhaps she was growing closer to the man who held her fancy. Whatever. Bran had things to do, and his mind dove back into the weirwood.

Brienne cried for the sword. She promised to bring Jaime's head to the shade, but Bran knew it was false hope: the Kingslayer would have his warrior maiden in the end. Mayhaps if he whispered in the creature's ear to send Hunt instead to lure the victim with the promise of saving his lady… but on second thought, Bran wouldn't risk bringing the couple together at all.

Bran studied his target some more. She was a tragic creature, not just because of her taste in men. He saw flashes of her childhood. She reminded him so much of Sansa, a fanciful girl with dreams of epic quests, true knights, and legendary loves, but like Bran, she was trapped in a body that denied her dreams. Bran was going to be a knight, a warrior, but even his fallback hope of being an archer on horseback was stolen from him. He was a cripple tied to this tree. A nagging thought danced in the back of his head that the Kingslayer had taken Bran's dreams but he could help with Brienne's. Suddenly, Bran was filled with something… he almost felt _bad_ about what he was doing.

She was so young and besotted with Renly just for showing a small kindness to her. She didn't kill Hyle Hunt, the man who had tortured with that bet, though she had many opportunities, and no one would know. Bran saw that she had steadfastly served and protected his mother, and his mother ….

 _Kingslayer's whore_ , the creature croaked.

Brienne and Jaime stood by hanged corpses. _They lay with lions_ , the creature whispered again. _Hang her._ They were on their way to King's Landing, Bran's mother desperate to trade for her daughters. Bran's mother had given Brienne dresses and asked for Brienne to sing to her. She had trusted Brienne with her one hope to have her family restored.

She was just _so_ sweet and sincere. So loyal. Inspiration flashed in Bran's mind. Lady Catelyn was no more, but Brienne could still maintain her place in the Stark family. She was in the Riverlands; it would not be much to push her to the Vale. That inn had stopped her progress; he'd just have to get her away from that!

But it pulled at her. The crossroads. It was a fixed point, a grand act of heroism that that was always woven into the fabric of time. So inconvenient.

Bran sighed.

Whatever. Jon could do it. The politicking at the wall bored Bran anyway.

Biter was on top of Brienne; Bran reached forward, and Biter's sword tongue extinguished the life from Karl _fookin'_ Tanner instead (the silent audience laughed). Orphans turned to abused daughter-wives. They were north of the wall. Jon was there, and… _what in the seven hells_ , Bran was there, too.

Unintentional. The part of him that still held his humanity felt faint sadness at seeing Hodor again. Bran was still at this tree at Winterfell, so this diversion seemed to have not interrupted his personal timeline too much. It was acceptable. If he had to fix every bump on the road, he'd never – he'd never – he suddenly remembered Arya.

She was bleeding to death in… Braavos? Bran ought to –

No. No distractions. He needed to focus! He needed the North strong. He needed the Riverlands strong. He needed Brienne in the Vale. The Kingslayer needed to be in the Riverlands to bring stability and to help the Tullys, but he also needed to be in Dorne to be humiliated. Bran rewatched his fight in the garden with Oberyn Martell's family and laughed. Such a masterpiece couldn't be touched. Bran pulled at the time around Westeros' mid section. Time could stop in the Riverlands until he was ready. Being out of sync would be a small sacrifice for their new king. It could stay frozen until this adventure in Dorne was through.

The Kingslayer ferried the corpse of his daughter to King's Landing, his sister-lover-jailer on the shore with disbelieving tears in her eyes. _We don't hurt little girls in Dorne._ A mile or two offshore was fair game, Bran smiled. The queen was distraught and overwhelmed. Her hubris had allowed the Faith Militant to run amok, and now she was in grief. The Kingslayer only dumbly followed her at Bran's bidding, a few kind words and he meekly fell to be her shadow.

 _Nothing else matters. Only us._ The queen dripped the practiced words into Bran's enemy's ear, words said out of habit and desperate delusion. A witch had told her that her children would die before her, and she had seen it coming true. _Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear._ Bran was flattered; his mother had told him that he was a handsome boy, but never beautiful. He was bringing more and more to this king role.

The queen was clinging to her last child. Her time in power was drawing to a close as the machinations in Essos set their sights more concretely upon the Iron Throne. The thread of life of her son wasn't much longer. Bran agonized at making a perfect triple play in the Kingslayer witnessing that final death, but he was needed elsewhere. A whisper later, and the queen was sending him to Riverrun.

Unbeknownst to Bran, there was another master of space manipulation who had encountered the frozen Riverrun. Littlefinger popped down to King's Landing, cutting through the frozen area, in order to obtain wardenship of the North. Bran unfroze the land as the Kingslayer approached, not noticing the cracks in space forming there. _Bronn is with him; maybe he'll finally get that castle!,_ the audience laughed from the other side.

Now, about Brienne… disheartened, Bran saw another fixed point. The poor girl was drawn to the object of her affections as soon as he entered the Riverlands. She always found him, to Bran's irritation. She found him, lamenting her failures, but he only heard of how she fought for him, avenged him. Without having yet volunteered her life for him before _that monster_ , he still comforted her, still whispered tenderly to her. He shared with her that Vargo Hoat had succumbed to the injuries she had given him, pride in his voice. Hunt, her loud companion, tried to push between them, declaring his intentions(, Jaime showing Bran how many words could rhyme with “Hunt”), but he only united them. It was _disgusting_.

 _You only love Cersei_ , Bran fed him. _Cersei, Cersei, Cersei._ It wasn't working. Jaime's eyes were on his lady like she was the only thing that had ever existed to him though he was only seeing her clearly for the first time. She shyly returned his affections, and words were passing between them of love, honor, and other meaningless prattle, as they had before that creature in the cave. Bran panicked. _The vow to Lady Catelyn_ , he whispered.

That did it. The pair quickly made plans to go to the Vale, the next logical place to search for Sansa. Bran was relieved he didn't need to expend more effort in planting that idea. _You stay here, and bring the army north for her._ Bran thought it too easy to separate them and get that extra army. He'd take whatever win he could!

Brienne went to the Vale without her love. She found Sansa, and pled with her big blue eyes before her. Brienne would serve House Stark, and she would help retake their ancestral home. They were able to rally the knights of the Vale and ride north. _Excellent_ , Bran thought. More loyalty to the Starks would only strengthen his throne. They would make the North strong, and then they would take Westeros. They would go help Jon… it had been a long trip to the Vale, Bran realized. Jon had died… and been resurrected somehow? Well, Bran was glad that little problem had sorted itself.

They all went North, and Winterfell was retaken. That is what Bran needed; his home would be strong, and he would have a reliable connection to a weirwood tree.

Bran was getting tired. He would separate the happy couple later, but first a look around.

Ships were burning in Meereen, and slavery was returning to Astapor and Yunkai. Daenerys was none too pleased with Tyrion's work, but Bran was ecstatic!

Looking around, maybe go see what was going on with Stannis… oh, right, Arya… Bran was wondering why she was in broad daylight when she was being hunted. Bran wondered if she was a decoy, but where would Arya get a decoy? Such a thing might be useful for a king to have. He'd have to ask her when they met again. Oh, no… no, that was the real Arya.

She was near death. It was a mortal wound. Bran was no maester, but maybe he just reached out… _A life for a life_ , a voice came to him as he began his work. He was thrown to a hall, full of people in celebration. To his disbelief, his living mother was there… and Robb! A wedding. No, no, no, Bran didn't want to see this.

He tried to pull away, but his attention was brought back to Robb, next to a woman… his wife? They were smiling and discussing their child. She was Essosi now; Bran faintly wondered how that worked. They were settling down, and the music changed. One of the guards approached Robb's wife from behind and delivered her Arya's wound. Panic ensued, and the sister Bran never got to meet was dead on the floor. _A life for a life_ , the voice repeated.

He was thrown back to Arya. Her wound was gone, but she was recovering from minor injuries at the home of an actress she had met. _My final speech is shit,_ _b_ _ut to be fair to myself, which I always like to be, the writing’s no good._ Bran wouldn't know anything about that.

Bran pulled himself out of the tree. Jeyne Westerling was no more. Bran shrugged it off. She couldn't have helped him anyway. In the grand scheme of things, the stage was there, and he could finish this at Winterfell.

 _Why couldn't he be an archer on horseback anymore?_ , he thought as he called for Meera. So many things to ponder before he finally became king.

**Author's Note:**

> Note on time traveling: With Bran's time traveling, I wanted to imagine an analogue to time dilation, but in that, time would be moving more slowly for Bran; I'm going the opposite way to subvert expectations! 
> 
> I haven't seen S5-S7 since they aired and I haven't actually seen S1-S4 in years, so my grasp of the show universe is as great as D&D's. I did read the fan wiki, though, and Jaime and Brienne's entries were pure cringe. As I have to actually start using details, it may turn into a mess, but this is just a thing to amuse me while I'm stuck inside. It will get rambly; this has to lead up to S8, so all time and reason needs to be broken by then.


End file.
